Free.
It had not understood Its Enemy’s power, had not known It and the landscapes It had shaped could be locked away. But not completely. Never completely. It had not been able to reach the physical world beyond Its own landscapes, but It had always been able to whisper to the truly dark hearts, sending Its resonance through the twilight of waking dreams. And the Dark Ones, who had brought It into being so long ago, had found a way to send humans into Its landscapes often enough to keep It amused—and to keep It and Its creatures fed. But now It was free of the magic in the stone wall that had kept It caged; now It could bring Its landscapes back into the world. Now It could find the Dark Ones, who would help It alter the world into what It wanted the world to be. Now…
The vibration of footsteps. Coming closer.
Tentacles condensed and changed into eight legs. The body’s shape altered to fit the legs. It climbed up and over the wall of the inner garden, then raced across the ground to the archway, Its belly brushing the tops of bloated mushrooms. It climbed the wall beside the archway. Within moments, Its large body blended perfectly with the stones, even mimicking the shadows cast by the thorn trees.
There It waited, savoring the anticipation of hunting again.
With her arms wrapped around herself, Lukene stared at the sealed, barred gate. A wooden door on the other side of the gate kept anyone from seeing what was held within the stone walls.
“Belladonna,” Lukene whispered.
A mistake made fifteen years ago and impossible to rectify. But there were still times when she thought she could have done something, should have done something, to stop what had happened.
She’d been twenty-four and a new Instructor the year fifteen-year-old Glorianna came to the Landscapers’ School. A bright girl, eager to learn. And so gifted.
They hadn’t understood how gifted until halfway through the first year, when the Instructor Lukene was assisting assigned the students the task of making an access point for “a home.” Since students that age had, at best, fledgling control over the power that lived within them, the access point would become the connection to the landscape that was their home. That was what the Instructor expected; that was what the lesson was meant to do.
But Glorianna had done something no other Landscaper could have done. Somehow she had altered Ephemera, rearranging pieces of the world to create an entirely new landscape, a place called the Den of Iniquity. The Instructors who judged the student efforts were horrified when they crossed over and got their first look at the Den—and were even more horrified when they saw the “residents” of that landscape.
When they returned to the walled garden that was Glorianna’s training ground and demanded an explanation, the girl had smiled and told them even demons needed a home.
No one had asked Glorianna why she would create a place for demons that would surely also attract the darker elements of the human heart. No one contacted her family to make any inquiries—at least, not while it would have mattered.
Instead of asking the questions that should have been asked, the Head Instructor gave Glorianna a false smile and told the girl she was being given one of the advanced tests. For a fortnight, she was to stay within her walled garden and anchor her foundation landscapes—that is, the landscapes that resonated for her and were her “personal world.”
She was given a basket of food, her clothes and books, water, and blankets.
She stood on one side of the gate and smiled while she watched the Head Instructor put a stout padlock on the barred gate to keep anyone from going in.
And she had waved cheerfully at Lukene when the Instructors walked away.
The last morning before it was too late, Lukene stole the padlock key and entered Glorianna’s garden. What the girl had done in a fortnight had left her awed and breathless—and terrified. The Den of Iniquity hadn’t been a fluke. The girl truly had the power to change the world and needed to be nurtured very carefully.
She’d run back to the Head Instructor, stammering in her desperate attempt to make herself understood. But the Head Instructor shouted her into silence, telling her the decision was made; the wizards had arrived to seal the gate. Glorianna and her unnatural power would be walled in to keep the landscapes safe.
By the time she ran back to that walled garden, the wizards were gone, the seal was in place, and no one would enter that ground ever again—or leave it. Whatever Glorianna could coax Ephemera into manifesting within that garden was all the world the girl would know.
But a month later, she was walking with a few of her students and noticed a black-haired girl standing in front of that sealed gate.
“What are you doing there?” Lukene asked. “You know students aren’t supposed to…” The words died when the girl turned and looked at her.
“So this is why none of you have come to see my work,” Glorianna said.
“Perhaps,” Lukene said carefully, aware that her students were shifting about uneasily, “now that you’ve found your way back—”
Glorianna shook her head. “No. There’s nothing I want from you anymore. You chose to close me in. Now I choose to shut you out.”
“I didn’t choose to close you in!”
The girl smiled sadly. “No, you didn’t. Good-bye, Lukene. Travel lightly.”
As Glorianna walked away, one of Lukene’s students said, “Who are you?”
She stopped, looked back, and said, “I’m Belladonna.” Then she walked away—and was never seen at the school again.
Lukene wiped the tears off her face and started walking, paying no attention to where she was going, just needing the movement.
There was nothing she could have done, not then, not now. But the mistake they’d all made fifteen years ago still ate at her sometimes until she felt the cut of it right down to the bone.
There were seven levels of Landscapers, seven levels of skill in using the power that kept people, and the world, safe from the manifestation of every heart’s desires. And then there was Glorianna Belladonna. If only…
A feeling of dread swept through Lukene, making her stop and look around.
What had drawn her to this path? Why did everything feel out of balance? The dark resonance, usually suppressed by the presence of so many Landscapers, felt as if it were leaking out of the forbidden garden, seeping into the ground and spreading out to contaminate the rest of the school. And it was strong now. Terribly strong.
Which was impossible. Unthinkable. She was overreacting to something that was always there in the background of the school. This was probably nothing more than a reaction to her confrontation with Nigelle and her thoughts about Glorianna.
But she hurried along the little-used path, and when she reached the archway and saw the open wrought-iron gate, she froze for a moment. Then she spun around, intending to run back to the school buildings and warn everyone that the unthinkable had happened.
Has the unthinkable happened?
A whispered thought. Calm, soothing, coaxing.
Lukene hesitated, turned back to look through the archway.
If she went running back now, what could she tell the Head Instructor? That someone had opened the old gate? That would cause an uproar among the Instructors in both the Landscapers’ and Bridges’ schools, but it wouldn’t tell them anything. And she didn’t actually know someone had opened the gate.
You don’t want to make another mistake, the voice whispered.
Lukene shook her head. No, she didn’t want to make another mistake.
She stepped through the archway—and gagged on the smell of rotting meat.
No more mistakes, the voice whispered. They eat at you. Eat you right to the bone.
Mushrooms burst as Lukene kicked them in her rush to the gate. Just a quick look to confirm nothing had changed inside, she thought as she squeezed through the opening. Then she would report to the Head Instructor, who would assign workers to replace the gate. Nothing to worry about. Nothing to fear.
Th
e small hole in the old stone wall throbbed inside her like a bad tooth.
“No,” she whispered. “Oh, no.”
Back through the gate. Racing across the short distance to the archway. Distracted by a movement on the wall, she stumbled as she glanced up and…
…she ran across endless, rust-colored sand beneath a sky the color of ripe bruises. Her heart pounded, her arms and legs pumped for speed, but the creatures behind her kept getting closer, closer.
Guardians and Guides, how had she gotten here? One moment she was running for the archway. Then a movement, a stumble, and…
She ran, gulping air that felt too hot, too dry. Feet pounded the endless sand.
Travel lightly. All she needed was a few moments to calm her mind, find her balance, and resonate with the access point of one of her landscapes. That would bring her back to her garden at the school. Then she’d be safe. Then she could warn the others that—
One foot slid over something just under the surface, breaking her stride. She flung her arms out to keep her balance, but that brief hesitation cost her. She felt the slashing bite on her left calf, felt blood flowing down her leg as fear gave her speed.
The calf muscles in her left leg seized up. She lost her balance. Fell on her hands and one knee. Up again in a heartbeat, but it was still enough time for another one to reach her, to slash at the back of her right thigh.
Running again. Running and running, trying to ignore the wounds, the blood, the muscles that were getting too stiff to obey the mind’s frantic commands.
Then she caught a glimpse of white and veered toward the mounds, not wondering what they were or why she hadn’t noticed them before. If she could reach the top of one, maybe she could keep the creatures away long enough to get back to her garden at the school.
But as she got closer, fighting for every stride, she saw black, chitinous, segmented bodies pouring out of the top of the mounds, running toward her.
She tried to veer again, but the calf muscles in her left leg stopped working. She staggered. Barely kept herself from falling. In a scream of terror and defiance, she turned and grabbed the creature that was almost on top of her, lifting it up in both hands.
For a second she looked at the head, the jaws, the legs. Her mind supplied a word: ant. But this thing was as long as her arm from elbow to fingers. Screaming, she hurled it at the others rushing toward her.
She tried to run, but her legs didn’t work anymore. She fell full-length on the sand.
And they were on her, the ones that had chased her, the ones from the mounds. She screamed as their jaws ripped out pieces of flesh, as her blood drenched the sand. She kept bucking, trying to throw them off, but there were so many now, her movements produced no more than another ripple under the mound of glistening black bodies.
Then she stopped moving. Stopped screaming.
When they finally left, the workers returning to the mounds, the scouts returning to the endless landscape, all that was left was a darker patch of wet sand, scraps of cloth, and clean bones.
Chapter Three
Present
Clutching the penny, Lynnea crept toward the wish well. There was no one around at this time of night. No one would see her here and mention it to Mam, who said tossing coins into the wish well was a waste of good money. And Mam would be very angry if she even suspected Lynnea wished for something beyond what Mam thought she deserved to have—food, serviceable clothes, and a place to sleep.
Besides, if Mam found out she’d gone to the wish well, she’d have to explain where she’d gotten the coin, since she wasn’t allowed to have money. And since Mam searched her tiny, barren room several times a week to make sure she wasn’t hiding anything she was forbidden to have, she wouldn’t keep the penny for long.
So she had to come tonight, had to sneak out of the farmhouse after Mam, Pa, and Ewan had fallen asleep. You needed a coin in order to make a wish at the well, and there was no telling how long it might be before Mam bobbled the egg-money jar again, spilling a few coins on the kitchen floor. Mam’s sharp eyes hadn’t noticed the penny next to a leg of the kitchen table. But Lynnea had seen it—and had convinced herself that the sunlight coming through the windows at just that moment, casting the shadow that had hidden the coin, meant she was supposed to have the penny in order to have this one chance to make a wish.
Holding her hand over the wish well, Lynnea whispered, “I wish…” But there were so many wishes crowding up inside her, she didn’t know which one to choose. And all she had was a penny. Maybe you could get only a small wish granted if you dropped a penny in the well. But a small wish wasn’t what she wanted. What she really wanted…
I wish I lived in a different place. I wish I could have friends. I wish I could do things right instead of always doing the wrong thing, no matter how hard I try. I wish I could find someone special to love. I wish someone loved me.
Something strange and powerful washed through her, startling her so much her hand snapped open.
The penny dropped into the well, and the feeling faded.
Lynnea stepped away from the well, wiping her hands on her much-mended skirt. Then she glanced at the sky and felt fear—such a familiar sensation—ripple through her. The farmhouse was beyond the other side of the village. If she didn’t hurry, she wouldn’t get back before the others got up and discovered she’d been out.
Wondering if anything good would come from the risk she’d taken tonight, Lynnea lifted her skirt above her knees and ran back to the farmhouse.
Sebastian stood at the end of the alley. The colored pole-lights that gave the Den’s main street a festively decadent appearance barely touched the entrance, as if even created light didn’t want to enter that dark space.
He was a demon. This was his landscape. But he didn’t want to walk into that dark, didn’t want to see whatever was at the other end of the alley.
Didn’t matter what he wanted. The crowd that had huddled at the edge of the alley, waiting for Teaser to fetch him, simply watched him now. Humans and demons alike, they watched him.
Beside him, Teaser extended a hand and took the torch someone passed to him.
“I’ll go with you,” Teaser said, looking pale and sick.
“I too,” a voice growled. “Go with you.”
The crowd parted for the bull demon. Big, mean, and not too bright, they came to the Den to drink in the taverns and bellow at the dancing girls. The wickedly curved horns could gore a man, and despite the bovine cast to their features, it was said they ate raw meat…of any kind.
This one held a thick wooden club that ended in a ball filled with metal spikes.
Walking into a confined space with a bull demon that was carrying a vicious-looking weapon wasn’t something any sane person would do, so feeling relief at the offer told Sebastian better than anything else could how deeply he feared what had been found in the alley.
“Thank you,” Sebastian said. He closed his eyes for a moment, gathered his courage…and walked into the alley.
Something wrong here. The ground felt soft, fluid…as if it might ripple under his feet at any moment.
No. Hard-packed ground didn’t shift, didn’t ripple. He just felt sick, a little dizzy. Which was understandable considering what he expected to find.
As they walked forward, the torchlight finally unveiled the other end of the alley.
The three of them froze. The bull demon’s breathing suddenly changed, sounding harsh and wet.
The body of the succubus they’d found a week earlier had been bad. This one was worse. Much worse.
Female. So mutilated he couldn’t say if he’d ever seen her in the Den before, could barely say with any certainty that the thing spilled over the alley was female.
“Human,” Teaser whispered.
Sebastian jerked, breaking the awful hold the corpse had on him that had kept him staring at it. He looked at Teaser. “You recognize her?”
Teaser shuddered. “The bracelet. She always wears
that wide gold bracelet. Has a rich husband. She’s a mean bitch who likes to play rough games in bed. Husband likes meat-and-potato sex, so she comes here to roll in the muck and do it naughty.”
She’s not going to do anything anymore, Sebastian thought, worried about the way Teaser talked as if the woman were going to sit up at any moment and laugh at them for being taken in by her hideous joke.
“Let’s—” Fear suddenly clamped icy hands around his spine. “Did you hear that?”
The bull demon waggled his ears and snorted. Sebastian had no idea if that meant yes or no.
The ground felt soft again, fluid again. And he would have sworn on everything he held dear that he heard a whisper of sly, wicked laughter coming from nearby.
He knew the Den. Knew these alleys as well as he knew the main streets. Something wasn’t right here.
“Let’s go,” he said, backing away from the corpse. Was there something moving up there on the walls? Something just beyond the torchlight? “Teaser, let’s go.”
The alley wasn’t long, but he felt as if he labored for hours to gain each step.
Halfway back to the street and the crowd. He turned and focused on Philo and Mr. Finch, two humans who had found their way to the Den and had settled in to stay.
Then he heard it. A faint scratching as something shifted on the wall.
He didn’t think. There wasn’t room inside him to think, not when he was certain that if he didn’t get out of that alley now, he’d end up like that woman. Or worse.
He sprinted for the mouth of the alley. Between one step and the next, the alley stretched like warm taffy, and the people waiting for him receded as the hard ground turned to sand that pulled at his feet, slowing him down. In another moment the alley would disappear and there would be nothing but sand, nothing but—
No! He was in the Den, in an alley. A short alley. Hard ground beneath him. Stone walls on either side of him. Teaser and the bull demon running just behind him. Familiar people waiting for him a few steps away. Just a few steps away. Just—